


Colourmarks

by kiyala



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Denial, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyoutani and Yahaba keep leaving marks on each other everywhere they touch. They're trying their best to ignore it, and what it means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colourmarks

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by that bit in s02e20, where Kyoutani knocked into Yahaba. I just wanted to write about them bumping into each other more.
> 
> (Also: this fic contains one brief anime spoiler)

Kyoutani bumps into him as they pass each other in the halls, with enough force to knock Yahaba against the window.

" _Hey_ ," Yahaba snaps, clutching at his arm. "That hurt."

Kyoutani just stares at him, unapologetic as ever, his brows drawn together into a frown. He isn't looking at Yahaba's face, but looking at his arm instead. Yahaba clutches it a little tighter, turning away from Kyoutani with a scowl and stepping away from the window.

"Watch where you're going, asshole," Yahaba mutters, and he doesn't _mean_ to brush past Kyoutani. What he actually wants is to give Kyoutani the widest berth possible, to avoid touching him at all. Instead, he ends up with his shoulder against Kyoutani's chest and they both tense up as Yahaba pushes past.

"Why don't _you_ watch where you're going?" Kyoutani grunts, and Yahaba doesn't even stop to argue with him, stalking off until they're out of each other's sight, then ducking into the nearest bathroom.

Shutting himself in one of the stalls, he unbuttons his shirt, pulling it aside and sighing despairingly as he looks down at his skin. It's blooming with brightly coloured marks, everywhere that he came into contact with Kyoutani. The mark on his bicep is yellow, just a touch too bright to look like a bruise, but the one that spreads across his chest to his shoulder, from brushing past Kyoutani, is a bright purple that stands out vividly against his skin. He's lucky he's brought a dark shirt to wear to practice, so the mark won't show through the material. Hopefully, the sleeves of his shirt will cover the mark on his arm too.

The longer he can keep the rest of the team from finding out about the marks, the better. He doesn't want them knowing about this and he really doesn't want their commentary. Especially not when the marks are being left behind by Kyoutani.

Soulmates are meant to be a personal topic, but it's difficult to keep things private when every touch, however inadvertent, leaves a mark behind. Colourmarks don't really serve any purpose, beyond helping soulmates find each other. There's no pattern to the colours, or none that has been found so far, and the marks only linger for an hour before they fade away. 

It's been easy enough to ignore for the past year, because Kyoutani hasn't been around. They barely saw each other before then, being in different classes and not really interacting much at practice. Somehow, though, since Kyoutani's recent return to the team, they've been bumping into each other everywhere— _actually_ bumping into each other, like there's something that keeps pulling them towards each other, and Yahaba refuses to accept that perhaps something is. He already hates the fact that Kyoutani returning to volleyball practice has made him feel like something's settled in his chest, especially considering that the rest of him feels incredibly uneasy, too afraid to go near Kyoutani in case the next mark they leave on each other is clear for everyone to see, but too stubborn to act any differently around him because that makes him feel like he's losing ground. 

He hasn't spoken to Kyoutani about it, but he doesn't think he needs to. Not when it's obvious enough that neither of them want this. They don't even want to spend longer than necessary in each other's presence, let alone anything more than that. They're not like the other soulmates around school, who react to their marks with something akin to excitement. Yahaba remembers the first time he saw a colourmark on his skin, he had no idea who it was from. He remembers slowly connecting the dots, after more colourmarks appeared, with growing horror that amounted to flat-out denial. 

With Kyoutani leaving colourmarks on Yahaba's skin on a regular basis these days, that denial has been a little difficult to hold onto. 

He's never actually seen the marks he's left on Kyoutani's skin but he knows that they're there. He can tell by the look in Kyoutani's eyes, the way Kyoutani tenses up near Yahaba, like he's equally reluctant to be close enough to touch. Honestly, Yahaba's glad that he hasn't seen them and hopes that he never will, because it makes the entire thing just that little bit easier to ignore. Perhaps, if he ignores the soulmate thing for long enough, whatever weird force is pushing them together will learn to give up. He's never heard of it happening before, but he'll remain stubbornly optimistic, if that's what it takes.

At afternoon practice, the shirt that Kyoutani's wearing covers any marks that may or may not be on his skin, just the same as Yahaba. It's just a matter of avoiding each other, making sure that they don't leave any new marks, and by the time that they're finished with practice, the ones from earlier will have faded. That's all Yahaba really wants. 

Of course it doesn't work out for him that way, because halfway through practice, when Yahaba has been paired with Kyoutani to do sets and spikes together, they end up in an argument over the positioning of Yahaba's toss, and the power of Kyoutani's spike.

"You're letting all of your potential go to waste," Yahaba snaps at him, nerves already frayed from the knowledge that the colourmarks are still there on his skin, his patience already short just from having to share the same space with Kyoutani. "You have so much power, and yet you're not putting enough thought into anything that you're doing! At this rate, there's no point in your being on the court at all, because we have plenty of other wing spikers who can play much more reliably."

"That's funny coming from you," Kyoutani sneers. "You can't even get into the starting line-up, when you don't have the skills for it. I'll take advice from you when you've actually got the real game experience to back it up."

"Don't try me," Yahaba says coldly. "I'm trying to help you here."

"You can't even help yourself," Kyoutani points out. "Your tosses are too slow, and if you think my spikes are inaccurate, then what the hell do you call those tosses?" 

"Listen here," Yahaba growls, and grabs Kyoutani by the arm, just under the sleeve, without really thinking about it. Not until Kyoutani freezes up, his eyes going wide, whatever retort he was going to make dying on his lips as he glances down. 

Yahaba's gaze drops to his fingers around Kyoutani's arm, to the sky blue that's started blooming on Kyoutani's skin, and jerks his hand away, taking two steps back just to get some space between them.

The mark on Kyoutani's arm stays there, clear enough for everyone to see. Which, Yahaba realises, his stomach dropping as he glances around the gymnasium, everyone _can_ , because they've all stopped what they're doing. The eyes of every single person in the volleyball club are fixed on the colourmark on Kyoutani's skin, obviously left behind by Yahaba. 

There's a silence filling the gymnasium that's beginning to suffocate Yahaba a little, but he doesn't know how to break it, doesn't even want to move, in case that draws everyone's attention to him. 

"Well, Yahaba—" Oikawa begins, breaking the silence instead. 

That's enough to get Yahaba moving. He shakes his head firmly, not looking at Kyoutani, not looking at anyone else, and turns around to leave. He doesn't care that he's the one running, he no longer cares if this means that he's losing ground to Kyoutani. He doesn't care about anything else than getting away from here, from the team and the prying questions that they're all going to have for him. 

He gets as far as the club room when a hand closes around his arm, jerking him back. Yahaba turns, finding Kyoutani standing there, frowning at him. 

"Get off me," Yahaba snaps, yanking his arm out of Kyoutani's grip, trying not to look at the forest green handprint that wraps around his arm. "Don't touch me." 

"Everyone knows now," Kyoutani says, shrugging. "I guess we both know. That it's happening to both of us." 

"I figured that out myself already," Yahaba replies, scowling. "Bonds go both ways, don't they? I knew that if you were leaving colourmarks on me, then—then—" 

He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. Kyoutani hooks a finger over the collar of his t-shirt, tugging it down enough that Yahaba can see the orange mark left there, from when they'd collided earlier. 

Yahaba looks away. He doesn't want to see this. He doesn't want to talk about it. 

"You think I'm happy about this?" Kyoutani grunts, taking a step back and sliding his hands into his pockets. He doesn't quite look at Yahaba when he speaks, directing his words at the floor between them. "But people know, now. Thanks to you." 

"You're the one who pissed me off," Yahaba bites out. "If you weren't provoking me, I wouldn't have grabbed you." 

"If you weren't yelling at me, I wouldn't have provoked you," Kyoutani growls. "These things go both ways too, Yahaba." 

They stand there, staring at each other, until Kyoutani snorts, shaking his head and pushing past Yahaba to open the door to the club room. "Well, whatever. Do what you want. I'm not going back there and dealing with their questions. I'm leaving." 

Yahaba stands frozen outside the club room, even as Kyoutani shuts the door behind him. He doesn't want to go in while Kyoutani's changing and see the marks on his body. He definitely doesn't want to go back to the gymnasium though, not to face their questions and definitely not to face the fact that Kyoutani might just stop coming to practice again, just because of him. 

He stays right where he is until Kyoutani steps out of the club room, bag slung over his shoulder, and walks away. At least, without Kyoutani there, Yahaba feels like he can breathe a little. He lets himself into the club room, changing quickly enough that he doesn't have to see any of the marks, pulling his jacket on so it covers the one on his arm, too. 

He goes home, locking himself in the bathroom and scrubbing at his skin even though he knows the marks will only fade in their own time. He frowns down at the colourmarks, standing out against his red, irritated skin, and hates them, hates everything in the world, and _especially_ hates Kyoutani. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Yahaba is sick with nerves as he walks to practice. He's prepared himself for the worst, for the team to barrage him with questions. Hopefully, if he gets there early enough, they can get it out of their systems before Kyoutani shows up. He doesn't think he'd be able to handle the questions if they're directed at both him and Kyoutani at the same time. 

He freezes up in the doorway of the gymnasium, when he sees that Kyoutani's already there. Iwaizumi, who is halfway through a conversation with him, looks up at Yahaba, but then continues on with their conversation easily. From what Yahaba can hear, it's about volleyball, and nothing else. Yahaba feels so incredibly relieved that Kyoutani's here, that he hasn't decided to wander off and practice on his own again because of what happened yesterday.

"Hey," Watari greets, giving Yahaba an easy smile near the ball trolleys. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Yahaba replies with a noncommittal hum. Watari was kind enough to send him a text last night to check up on how he was doing. They haven't directly talked about it, and Watari seems to understand that he doesn't want to, because he doesn't push now, just like he didn't last night. 

It takes about halfway through practice until Yahaba realises that the rest of the team isn't going to ask him the questions that he's been dreading. He lets himself relax a little, focusing on his plays rather than whether or not the team is watching him, especially whenever he's near Kyoutani. He's not entirely comfortable just yet, but it's definitely an improvement. 

He and Kyoutani don't speak to each other, and that suits Yahaba just fine. They ignore each other throughout practice and afterwards too, when they're all walking to their homerooms. Kyoutani walks off on his own, while Yahaba hangs back with Watari, idly chatting as they make their way to class. 

"You don't have to look so tense, you know," Watari tells him, when their homerooms are in sight. He gives Yahaba a reassuring grin. "We might make fun of each other, but we're not _assholes_. We know when to leave something alone. This is definitely one of those times."

"Yeah," Yahaba sighs, giving Watari a weak smile in reply. "I guess so. Thanks."

Maybe this whole thing will be okay, Yahaba thinks to himself as he sits down at his desk. Maybe it's not as big of a deal as he's making it out to be. He can get through this. 

Or so he thinks, until lunch time. Watari wants to practice setting, so he drags Yahaba outside, even though they can't use the gym, and nabs two balls for them as they stand between the school buildings. Yahaba is grateful for the practice and for the company, because there's a lot that he wants to improve on, but he doesn't know how he feels about doing it on his own. 

He can tell the moment that Kyoutani is there. He can feel it, like some sixth sense, and he catches his ball when it next comes down instead of tossing it. He looks directly at Kyoutani, standing there with his arms folded across his chest, frowning as he always is, and Yahaba feels a surge of irritation burning its way through him. 

"What do you want?" he snaps, tightening his grip on his ball. "You can't spike here. Definitely not _you_ , of all people."

Watari's stopped tossing his ball too, standing back and watching the two of them square off. Kyoutani snorts quietly, rolling his sleeves up and walking closer. 

"What makes you think I was going to ask you to toss for me?" Kyoutani asks, his eyes narrowing as he adds, "Of all people." 

Watari clears his throat quietly. "Uh, guys? Can we maybe not do this?"

Kyoutani ignores Watari, standing right in front of Yahaba. "With a toss like yours, it's not like I can hit at full power anyway." 

"Fuck you," Yahaba snaps, and he doesn't care that Kyoutani is baiting him, doesn't care that he's falling for it. "Spike this." 

With a self-satisfied look that makes Yahaba desperately want to punch him, Kyoutani stands there, ready for the ball. Yahaba tosses, playing close attention to the amount of power he puts into it, watching as Kyoutani jumps to meet it, listening to the ball smack loudly against the wall in front of them before bouncing off and directly into Yahaba's direction. It stings as it hits his leg and he hisses, stumbling backwards until Kyoutani steadies him with a hand around his wrist. 

"Let go," Yahaba growls at him, the moment he's regained his balance, but there's already a dark, indigo mark on his skin. " _Damn it_. How the hell am I meant to hide this when I get back to class?"

"Everyone knows anyway," Kyoutani mutters. "Thanks to you. It's not going to make a difference now, is it?"

Yahaba would very much like to say that he doesn't know _how_ he starts getting into fights with Kyoutani on a regular basis, but unfortunately for him, that's not true at all. 

Sometimes it'll start with a shove, or an insult, or both, usually during lunch, or after practice. It usually ends with the two of them going home covered in colourmarks from all the grabbing, the punching, the kicking. They avoid each other's faces after Kyoutani punches the side of Yahaba's mouth once, just because of the sheer number of _looks_ he received for the colourmark blooming there, making him want to scream out that no, it's not what everyone thinks. 

It all comes to a head during the match against Karasuno. Yahaba doesn't mean for his anger to boil over, and he knows that it's about much more than what he pretends it is. That doesn't matter, because it gets through to Kyoutani all the same. It makes him pull his head in, and he walks back onto the court with the two tiniest spots of colour just against his collarbone, where the back of Yahaba's knuckles had brushed against him. It's subtle, mostly hidden by his jersey, and Yahaba watches from the sidelines, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Later on in the game, he's on court with Kyoutani, elated by his successful spike, unthinkingly raising his hands for a high-five. It doesn't occur to him that it's a bad idea until he's watching Kyoutani turn away instead of responding. Having Kyoutani's colourmarks on his hands for the rest of the game is just asking to be distracted, and it's not something that either of them are equipped to deal with, right now.

They don't talk after they lose. They don't really talk for a few days, beyond picking arguments with each other, letting them escalate into physical fights, because they're both angry and frustrated and for once, it's not directed at each other, but this is still the only way they can express it.

The third years are getting ready to leave the club, which means that the captaincy is going to be announced any time soon. Thinking about it makes Yahaba nervous, because he doesn't know what kind of team Seijou is going to be without the strength of its seniors. They're all incredibly talented players, and each of them will leave a gap behind that is going to be difficult to fill.

He goes to the club room one afternoon for practice, his arms littered with marks from where Kyoutani had grabbed him earlier, to find Oikawa standing there. He has his arms folded across his chest, a determined glint to his eyes, and it makes Yahaba freeze up a little.

"Just the person I was looking for," Oikawa says cheerfully. "Or one of you, anyway. Ah, there you are, Mad Dog-chan. I was hoping I'd catch both of you. Preferably without going hunting for where you've picked to fight this time."

Yahaba glances over his shoulder to find Kyoutani standing there, hands in his pockets and bag slung over his shoulder. Kyoutani looks at him, just briefly, then looks away, his brow furrowing even further.

"I've been thinking about the captaincy," Oikawa tells them both, "and I've decided that Yahaba is the best option. Except you're not going to get very far when you the team's setter can't even get along with one of the wing spikers. What are you going to do on the court, hm? Are you going to get into even more fights?"

Yahaba looks down, feeling the back of his neck heat with embarrassment. Oikawa sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"You know, I couldn't help but notice that you've been marking each other a lot more, recently." Oikawa nods towards Yahaba's arms. "You both show up to practice covered in bright marks and it's almost enough to make me jealous, you know."

With a hollow laugh, Yahaba shakes his head. It's a ridiculous concept to even consider, that Oikawa might be jealous of them. _Oikawa_ , who is constantly covered in colourmarks of his own, who covers Iwaizumi with them in return. Just as they always have for as long as Yahaba's known either of them. Their relationship is something worth being jealous of, Yahaba would know. Whatever this is between him and Kyoutani is the complete opposite.

"At first, I thought that maybe you were addressing it," Oikawa continues with a shrug. "But then I realised that you've been fighting instead. But at least you're getting better about touching each other, right? Even if it's just because you've been fighting."

Yahaba and Kyoutani both answer Oikawa with silence, exchanging uncomfortable glances.

It's Kyoutani who breaks the silence, clearing his throat and saying, "I wasn't even thinking about touching him. I just wanted to fight him. I didn't realise."

"Me neither," Yahaba adds quietly, thinking back to all the times he's touched Kyoutani without thought. 

"Well, maybe you should think about it," Oikawa suggests. "I'm not announcing my decision just yet to the rest of the team, but Yahaba, you should think about the kind of captain you want to be, the kind of team you want to have, and the kind of relationship you want with your ace."

He leaves them with that, patting Yahaba's shoulder before he walks away. Yahaba watches him leave, before he turns to Kyoutani instead. 

"You know," Yahaba says, just to break the silence before it turns awkward, "I used to hate touching you. I used to hate you, in general."

Kyoutani snorts quietly. " _Used to_."

"You piss me off," Yahaba tells him, "but I don't hate you. Maybe I'm just used to you. I don't know."

"I don't hate you either," Kyoutani replies. "Maybe I used to."

"This thing," Yahaba says, gesturing between them, "is weird and complicated, and I still kind of wish that it wasn't there, but…"

"Oh?" Kyoutani raises an eyebrow. "We're talking about it now?" 

"I don't see you bringing it up on your own," Yahaba snaps, before he takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Look, it's not going anywhere. We might as well accept that." 

"I know that," Kyoutani says, sounding a little gruff. "We're soulmates. Whatever that means."

"Soulmates," Yahaba repeats, laughing softly. "I've never said it aloud before. It sounds pretty uncool, to me."

"Suits you, then," Kyoutani mutters, but there's a smile tugging at his lips. 

Snorting, Yahaba shoves at him. He can see the bloom of colour on Kyoutani's skin through the open collar of his shirt. It grabs hold of his attention and doesn't let go, drawing him in until he steps closer, his fingers still hovering just over the warm skin. 

"Yahaba." Kyoutani's voice is quiet. It's not a question, and not a sign for him to back off. 

Taking a deep breath, Yahaba trails his fingers up Kyoutani's neck, to his ear, then over his jaw. He watches the way his touch leaves a soft lilac behind, slowly darkening into the kind of purple from a sunset, deep and beautiful. It's amazing, Yahaba thinks to himself, that it's his fingers doing this to Kyoutani's skin.

"Yahaba," Kyoutani says again, sounding a little hoarse this time. 

"I don't hate you," Yahaba murmurs, but it feels like a revelation this time. He wants to kiss the purple on Kyoutani's jaw, wants to kiss more colours onto Kyoutani's face, all over his skin. He wants this, he realises; fights, splashes of colour, and all. 

Kyoutani snorts quietly, taking Yahaba's face in both hands, no doubt leaving marks behind on either cheek. "We're going to have to do a little better than just not hating each other. Maybe." 

"Small steps," Yahaba breathes, watching as Kyoutani draws closer. "We'll get there."

"Yeah," Kyoutani hums. "We will."

They kiss, holding onto each other tightly. Kyoutani's mouth, when they pull apart, is the same bright amber as his eyes. It's a good look, Yahaba thinks, pulling Kyoutani in for another kiss. He can't wait to see the other colours he's going to leave behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and talk to me about kyouhaba [here](http://twitter.com/kiyala)!


End file.
